As You Wish
by tbazzsnow
Summary: Written for the Nov 28 Carry On Countdown prompt Fluff. Simon and Baz on a weekend night at home. Simon has some work to do to get Baz appropriately caught up on pop culture. He's also dealing with an underfed vampire. Night at home fluff of these two boys.


**As You Wish**

 _Nov. 28 prompt Fluff_

* * *

 **Simon**

Penny's gone to visit her family this weekend. I've finished my classwork already so I've got nothing much to do.

Other than wait for Baz.

He texted a little while ago that he was on his way. Had a late tutorial. I can't believe he's got a late tutorial on Fridays. I would hate that.

He's bringing curry and I've got some films picked out for us to watch.

It's my turn to choose this weekend. It's about bloody time Baz was exposed to some real pop culture classics, not just those 80's and 90's ones Fiona loves. _Breakfast Club_ and _Singles_ and _Heathers_ and all the ones with the intense soundtracks. She loves those.

And then there're all those Wes Anderson films Baz adores. I know they're critically acclaimed and have first rate actors. Even I can admit the cinematography is wicked but I don't quite get the humour.

I'm also tired of him always spelling my wings and tail away with _**"there's nothing to see here."**_ People can't actually see me with that spell so they bump into me all day long. Can't even get service at the bakery down the street. It's bloody annoying. And it lasts for hours and hours.

Penny uses _**"these aren't the droids you're looking for"**_ and it's so much better. Everyone can see me but their eyes just slide right by the tail and wings. It's perfect. Only drawback is that it doesn't last all day so sometimes I've got to meet her on campus and get her to spell me again. That's a bit inconvenient.

I wish Baz could use that spell. It doesn't work for him because he's never seen _Star Wars,_ the posh 't get the reference so nothing happens when he casts it. I ask you-how can anyone his age have possibly gone through life without seeing _Star Wars_? It's mind-boggling. He's not seen the originals or the prequels. It's criminal, that's what it is.

No _Star Wars_. No _Indiana Jones_. Honestly, I think someone speak to Fiona. It's damn near cruel and unusual punishment to have subjected him to a steady diet of John Hughes and Coen brothers' movies but no George Lucas. Really.

At least he's seen _The Princess Bride_. I don't know if I could forgive Fiona if she had kept that one under wraps.

I finally hear his key in the door.

 **Baz**

I'm late. My tutorial ran over. Then the curry place was mobbed. I finally escaped with our chicken tikkas and samosas and then it started to rain.

It's been a long week. My classmates have been particularly irritating. They're always irritating but quite particularly so the last few days. I'll be so glad to be done with them all at the end of this semester when I can finally transfer away from LSE.

I can't help but smile as I catch sight of Simon. He's sprawled out on the sofa, curls all askew and looking utterly delectable.

He jumps right up at the sight of me. Or maybe it's just the smell of the curry that's got his attention.

No, it's me. His hands come up to comb through my damp hair and his lips meet mine. They're chapped and dry and they're perfect.

"Hello, love. Sorry I was late." I hand Simon the curry take-out and follow him to the kitchen.

"How was your tutorial, Baz?" Simon puts the bag on the kitchen counter and his fingers brush my cheek. "You look tired." His expression grows stern. "Did you eat at all today?"

"The tutorial was shit. Gregory always talks too bloody much and nothing he says is of any consequence. He may like the sound of his own voice but I bloody well don't." I lean into Simon and his arms come around me.

"Only a few more months and you'll be rid of him, Baz." He frowns up at me. "You didn't answer my question. Did you eat?"

I shake my head. "There wasn't time. I had a latte earlier. I'll eat now. It'll be fine."

His frown only gets deeper. "No, did you _feed_?"

I know what he meant. I just didn't want to answer. He'll fuss at me.

I haven't fed. Not since the day before yesterday. It's probably why I'm so irritable. It's harder here than it was at Watford. Wildlife is trickier to find and there's always someone lurking about in this city. You're never alone. It's exasperating.

Simon growls at me and then hisses. " _Baz_." He steps back and crosses his arms.

I shrug. I've gotten into the habit of it, since we started dating. Simon can carry on entire conversations with shrugs alone. "Oh, don't give me that look, Simon. I'm fine. You know I haven't been needing to feed as often since I left Watford."

Since before I left Watford but I don't mention that.

He raises one eyebrow at me.

Simon's picked that up from me, the wanker. Practices it in the mirror, I'm sure. It's infuriating and endearing. Mostly endearing. I'm weak for him, what can I say?

"You know I haven't needed to do it as often." I sound petulant now. Maybe he'll stop pestering me. "I'm fine." I repeat it for emphasis. "Or at least I would be if you'd actually move. If you're so concerned about me eating step aside and let me grab a samosa."

He actually shifts over. I grab a plate from the cabinet and open the take-out containers to shovel some food onto my plate. I hear the fridge open behind me.

I turn around to find Simon holding a cup of red liquid. He waggles it at me, a smug look on his face. "Made the rounds today. The butcher shop in Ealing had some. Drink up, Baz. It'll make you feel better."

My ridiculous boyfriend has found purveyors of fresh blood all around the city. Today must have been one of his pickup days. He keeps a spread sheet of it all. It's mortifying and perhaps the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.

My voice is soft. "Thank you, love."

Simon sets the cup on the counter, reaches for me and buries his face in my neck. "You know I worry about you, you git." I can feel his lips moving up to my jawline.

"I know. I'm sorry." My mouth finds his, soft at first, then more demanding as I pull him flush to me. He's so warm. I can feel the heat of him through my shirt. It chases away the chill of the rain and burns away the frustrations of my day.

Simon may have lost his magic but he can still work wonders on me.

His fingers slide into my hair.

I lose myself in him, the taste of him, the smooth skin of his back as I slip my hands underneath the fabric of his shirt, the searing heat of him pressed into me.

His hand drops down to rub my stomach and then he slips his fingers between the buttons of my shirt. I'm lost in the sensation of him.

It could be minutes or hours later when he pulls away. I don't know. Time stops when I'm like this with Simon.

He cups my face with his hands. "You're still so cold, Baz." The featherlight touch of Simon's thumb across my cheekbone. "You're still as pale as when you walked in." A trace of a smile on his face. "You're making me think I've lost my touch if I can't get you even a little bit flushed after all that."

The smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Please eat, Baz." He presses his forehead to mine, eyes steady on me.

I'd be flushed up to my ears if I'd fed. Or more.

I nod, forehead still resting against his. I pull back just far enough to press a kiss to his temple. "Alright, love."

Simon steps out of my arms and hands me the cup again.

I take it from his hands and drain the contents rapidly. I rinse my mouth out and then wash the cup out thoroughly while Simon loads his bowl with rice and curry. He takes one more spoonful of tikka and then plops two samosas on top.

We sit at the table and Simon tells me about his day. I pick at my food. I don't really need too much food, now that I've got some blood in me.

I rest my chin on my hand and soak in the sight of him, animated and smiling, telling me all the funny things that happened to him today.

He glances at my plate and leans forward. "Baz."

I roll my eyes. "Fine." I eat my samosa and finish most of my curry. I suppose I was hungrier than I thought.

We end up on the sofa after the washing up, Simon's head on my shoulder and my arm around him. The heat still radiates from him and I soak it in.

"What's tonight's choice, love?"

Simon's got a grin that means trouble.

I groan as the bright yellow _Star Wars_ logo appears on the television screen.

"Shut up. It's about time you watched something worthwhile, Baz. This is pop culture nirvana, right here."

"I'm not watching all three of them tonight."

"We'll see. We've got nothing to do tomorrow and you might find yourself caught up in the story."

"I'd rather be caught up in something else." I kiss the top of his head and arch my brow meaningfully.

Simon laughs but his eyes go soft. "Yeah, maybe one episode will be enough tonight." He moves closer into the circle of my arms.

"I'll have you know I'm quite well versed in pop culture, Simon."

" _The Lost Boys_ doesn't count, Baz."

I give an indignant snort. "That's Fiona's fault. I'll have you know I only watched _The Lost Boys_ under extreme duress."

"Does catching an eyeful of Jason Patric count as extreme duress?"

"Hush, Simon. I thought you wanted me to watch this."

"I want you to learn how to do the bloody droid spell, you wanker."

My lips brush his curls. "As you wish."

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 _Title from The Princess Bride_

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for more info on Simon's search for blood products in the greater London area please see my fic Close to Me third part of chapter 9!


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